Commander Tucker has a Baby
by Alelou
Summary: Goes AU in Unexpected before the Klingons get involved. Trip and crew must cope with a new arrival. T/T and T/A friendship. Pls. see warning at end of Ch. 4 before advancing to the optional epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**Commander Tucker Has a Baby**

Authors's note: This story takes off from the point in _Unexpected_ where Archer nearly gets the Xyrillians and his own crew killed by Klingons, who then become strangely cooperative. The final act of this otherwise charming episode seems so wrong to me that I wondered what would happen if Archer wasn't an idiot at this key point...which led me to wonder what would happen if Trip actually had to deliver that kid. And so that's what you have here. It goes AU for only one episode without changing any later plots in the canon. No overt romance here, but key relationships are developing (especially Trip & T'Pol) or being tested (Trip & Archer). Rated PG for mild cussing.

Disclaimer: CBS/Paramount owns Star Trek Enterprise and everything about it. _Unexpected _was written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga.

x x x

"Sir, with all due respect, do you think this is a wise idea?"

Clearly, Malcolm Reed had no confidence in his weapons up against that Klingon battle cruiser.

Jon was hoping it wouldn't come to that. "If we're going to speak to the Xyrillians, we can't do it without the Klingons knowing about it," Jon said, and turned to Hoshi. "Open a..."

"Captain!" T'Pol said, interrupting him. "Alerting the Klingons to the presence of the Xyrillians is likely to result in their immediate destruction."

"But they're completely harmless," Jon said.

T'Pol assumed the tone he thought of as 'urgent condescension'. He particularly resented the short sentences, as if she wasn't sure he could handle more complicated ones. "We already know they are causing malfunctions on the Klingon ship. The Klingons will consider that an act of war. They have little patience or interest in establishing diplomatic relationships with alien races. Indeed, we are at considerable risk ourselves."

"They vastly out-gun us, sir," Reed said.

Jon glanced at Trip, who looked, if possible, even greener around the gills than usual. His chief engineer was understandably desperate for this contact with the Xyrillians.

Reed added, "I also don't think we particularly want the Klingons to get their hands on that stealth technology."

Jon sighed. "Travis, back off to the edge of sensor range but don't lose sight of them. Trip, T'Pol." He headed for his ready room.

x x x

Archer said, "We need a way to communicate with them that the Klingons won't detect."

Trip sank down into the chair on the other side of the ready room. His energy level was dropping fast as hope gave way to frustration. To be this close and yet be unable to hail the mother of this kid he was carrying was maddening.

"Can you think of anything?" Archer prompted him.

"Semaphore?"

"How about something helpful?"

Trip sighed. "Maybe the Klingon com is down the way our visual was when they were sucking up our plasma wake. They might not even notice we're sending a message."

"Even if it was down we'd have no way of knowing when it might come back up," T'Pol pointed out. "It would be safer to disguise the message."

"If we disguise it from the Klingons the XYRILLIANS might not recognize it either!"

"Trip!" Archer said. Trip grimaced an apology. He knew his frustration was getting the better of him.

"I think we need Hoshi in this discussion," Archer said. "Which means that we need to include one more person in this matter, Trip."

"Hoshi?" Trip was horrified. "Why don't you just announce it to the whole ship while you're at it?"

T'Pol said, "I believe Lieutenant Sato is quite capable of discretion."

"Like you? You've already blabbed it to anybody you could!"

T'Pol drew herself up. "I have not 'blabbed' anything."

"Oh yeah? Then how come everybody's looking at me funny?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Perhaps your elevated hormone levels are causing paranoia."

Archer said. "Trip, if people are staring at you it's because you're out of uniform and behaving oddly. And frankly, if we can't make contact with the Xyrillians, you're not going to be able to keep this a secret for much longer anyway."

"Fine!" Trip snarled. "Get Hoshi." He blinked back tears of frustration. Nobody seemed to be taking this situation seriously enough. It was like a big joke to them: Trip Tucker, The Pregnant Engineer with a Line of Nipples Growing Up His Arm.

Archer gave him an assessing look. "Why don't you go take a break while I explain the situation to her? I have a feeling you wouldn't mind skipping that part."

"You got that right," Trip grumbled. "I'll be in the mess hall."

x x x

"Milk, cold," he said to the beverage dispenser. He had already grabbed two pieces of pie.

To his annoyance, T'Pol was right behind him.

"May I?" She stood at his table, clearly awaiting permission to join him.

"Yeah, sure," he said, good manners winning out over his bad mood.

"Usually at this time of day you drink coffee," she said.

"Phlox said caffeine might not be good for the baby." Belatedly, he looked around to see if anyone was likely to have overheard. Fortunately the only other crewmen there were at some distance, and busy talking to each other. "Of course, for all he knows, milk is even worse for it. But I guess I might as well try to do the right thing."

"A laudable attitude," T'Pol said.

Had she actually complimented him? He felt an odd rush of warmth.

T'Pol was studying him.

"What?" he said.

"You are reacting more emotionally than usual, even for you," she said.

He scowled. "Maybe _you _should try growing an alien baby on your rib cage!"

"I am sure I would find it distressing."

He blinked, surprised again. She was also the last person he expected any sympathy from. "We _have_ to find a way to contact them, T'Pol. I really don't want to find out the hard way how this baby's supposed to get born."

"Ensign Sato will come up with a strategy for communicating with them. But if necessary, I have no doubt that Dr. Phlox will choose your well-being over the fetus's."

"I don't want it to get hurt either!"

T'Pol tilted her head and regarded him. "It appears you may be developing a maternal attachment to the unborn child."

"Paternal!" Trip said angrily. "Paternal! I'm still a man, in case you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten."

He frowned at her. Something about that comment surprised him too.

x x x

They didn't succeed in contacting the Xyrillians. Hoshi had indeed come up with a plan, but she hadn't managed to implement it before the Klingons suddenly jumped to warp.

"I'm sorry, Trip. There's no way we can keep up with them." Archer had asked Trip, who'd been in engineering, to meet him in his quarters. Trip suspected he was a little worried about how explosive his reaction might be; he wasn't exactly a picture of restraint these days.

"Of course," Archer said, still watching him with concern, "it's entirely possible that malfunctions cause them to drop out of warp again. And we'll track them for as long as we can. At some the Xyrillian ship may fall back and we'll be able to pick up their trail."

Trip sighed. "You know, Cap'n, next time we offer free engineering services to an alien race that's been caught sucking our plasma exhaust, let's insist on a valid home address first."

Archer smiled. "Good point. I wish we'd insisted on downloading their database. Phlox could really use it right now."

"That's for damned sure." Trip's hand went automatically to the bulge on his chest.

"This whole thing kind of fits their modus operandi, don't you think? Hide in a wake and suck up plasma exhaust? Deposit your DNA on an unsuspecting alien? It's like those birds that lay their eggs in another species' nest."

Trip sighed. Archer wasn't exactly cheering him up.

"You know," Archer said, lowering his voice, "If we do lose them, I wouldn't think any less of you if you wanted to take care of this problem another way."

Trip scowled. "You heard Phlox. There's no way the baby would survive."

"Trip, we're not positive _you'll _survive if you have it. Or that we'll even be able to keep it alive after it's born. You're going far beyond the call of duty here."

Trip sighed. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I've thought about it. Phlox did discuss it with me. But I just can't see doing that. It's not like I didn't like Ah'len, or her people. I did. They were nice folks. We just need to find them, that's all."

"Well, hopefully we'll catch up with them soon," Archer said. "I really don't want to spend the rest of our mission chasing these guys across the galaxy."

Trip looked up, suddenly wary. "You're not gonna quit on me, are you?"

"No. Not until Starfleet calls us off."

"I know it's inconvenient. I really appreciate everyone's efforts."

Archer clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You didn't ask for this. And in an odd sort of way, it does fit our mission. You're definitely going where no man has gone before."

x x x

Two weeks later his door signal chirped, waking Trip from his doze. He hadn't been sleeping well and tended to drop into cat naps whenever he could, which was exactly what Phlox had recommended.

"Come in," he said, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Archer and T'Pol walked in, bearing trays from the mess hall. "We thought we'd bring you some food," Archer said. "Phlox said you didn't feel comfortable leaving your cabin anymore."

"Everyone either looks at me like I'm a freak or tries to touch my belly." In the last week, the baby had 'dropped' toward his abdomen, where it was using the additional space to grow significantly larger. He'd begun to feel little kicks. Just that morning he'd noticed what could only be a little hand or foot pushing out his skin.

The fatigue was hitting him hardest. Trip hadn't even tried to put up a fight when Phlox had taken him off duty.

Besides, he had things to do, when he could summon the energy. For one, he was trying to make grass grow in his quarters. He wished he'd brought some of that weird wall food back with him; he would have tried to grow that too. Ensign Novakovich had told him the hydroponics lab was really the only place on the ship with enough light to grow anything reliably, but he should have known better than to tell an engineer that. Trip had been fiddling with a contraption he hoped would generate enough light and circulate enough water to sustain at least a few square meters of real, green grass.

He could kick himself now for not having paid more attention when he was aboard the Xyrillian ship. What exactly were their humidity levels? And just what kind of grass was it they grew there? Novakovich had perplexed him by telling him there were thousands of varieties of plants commonly known as grass. It hadn't helped when Trip had asked which ones might give off a gas that would help a Xyrillian metabolize its food.

"How can you stand it in here?" Archer asked. His brow was perspiring.

Trip looked up, surprised. "Stand what?"

T'Pol said, "I believe this level of humidity could have a negative impact on the performance of the electronics in your cabin."

"Oh. Well, yeah, maybe eventually," Trip said. "Right now I just want to make sure she has a comfortable environment."

Archer raised his eyebrows. "She?"

Trip grinned. "It's a girl. You want to see?" He brought the scan up on his monitor.

Archer gave him a concerned look. "Are you actually getting excited about this?"

Trip shrugged. "I never said I didn't want to have kids someday."

"_Alien_ kids, Trip?"

Trip automatically glanced at T'Pol, who met his eyes for a moment before turning to examine his grass-growing contraption.

"As my momma always says, if life gives you lemons, make lemonade." He sniffed the food they'd brought. "And if life gives you pecan pie, for God's sake sit down and eat it. You want to join me?"

"We already ate," T'Pol said.

Archer helped himself to a breadstick and waved it around in the air. "Don't forget that you're still going to have to let this baby go if we find the Xyrillians."

"I'm not forgetting. Any progress on that?" Trip asked, with his mouth full.

Archer said, "We've lost all trace of the Klingons. However, we think we may have found an impulse trail that could be Xyrillian. We're following that. If it is them, we should know very soon."

"Good."

T'Pol said, "There is less than a fifty per cent chance it is actually their ship, Commander."

"Still better than nothing," Trip said, between mouthfuls. This was going to bring on some heartburn, but it was worth it.

Archer shook his head. "You know, this all seemed pretty funny to me when it first happened."

"I noticed," Trip said sourly.

"It's not that funny anymore. This seems like it might really change your life. I don't want to lose my chief engineer."

Trip grimaced. "I don't want you to either. Set up some decent day care for me, and maybe you won't have to."

Archer grinned and shook his head. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Has the doctor determined how to deliver you yet?" T'Pol asked.

"He says he'll try to be ready for anything. And he wants me in sickbay round the clock starting next week, just in case. You want to water my grass for me while I'm gone?"

T'Pol looked perplexed.

Trip smiled. "Ah, never mind. Ethan will do it for me."

"I would be happy to do it for you if you feel it is important," T'Pol said.

"It's not. Don't worry about it." Trip smiled warmly at her. She'd used the word _happy_ and somehow this seemed like progress even if it was just a social courtesy.

Archer smirked. "You know, Trip, I think pregnancy agrees with you. You're glowing."

x x x

Not very many hours later, Trip woke up and thought: I'm going to die.

He hit the lights next to his bunk and buzzed Phlox. "It feels like something's stabbing me!"

"Do you see any blood?" Phlox asked, ever practical. He'd already had a couple of false alarms from Trip.

Trip gasped at another sudden, sharp pain and looked down at himself. Something small and sharp had just pushed through the skin on his belly. _"YES!"_

_**To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thanks for the reviews! In case you're worried, this story is indeed finished, it's just coming in pieces – but reviews do have an inspiring effect (hint, hint...)

* * *

He woke up in sick bay to the sounds of a baby crying.

"He's awake, doctor," he heard someone say.

"Ah, Commander," Phlox said. "Congratulations – it's a girl, as we expected. Quite healthy, as you can hear."

"What happened?" Trip felt groggy.

"Apparently Xyrillian children deliver themselves by cutting their way out. There was a small, beak-like appendage involved that has since fallen off. No doubt the pregnant Xyrillian male is somehow equipped to cope with this without much trauma – probably not as vascular in that region of their anatomy as humans are. Fortunately, we got to you before you'd lost a great deal of blood."

"Here she is," said a woman – Liz Cutler, he realized. She handed the squirming baby to Phlox, who held it up for Trip.

"Your daughter, Commander." Phlox grinned hugely.

Trip's eyes widened. His baby was … well, it was very small, and wriggling, and bawling, and covered with shiny dermal plating. As much as he'd tried to prepare himself for this moment, this creature was far more alien than he'd anticipated.

Probably didn't help that the little sucker had nearly killed him.

"Here," Phlox said, and lay the squirming infant belly-down on his naked chest. It felt warm and dry and tiny … and desperate. It rooted around and screamed even louder as Trip tentatively put his hands on it for the first time. Tiny white sparks arced between them.

"She's hungry," Phlox said. "Let's see if she can latch on, shall we?"

"Latch on?" Trip said, half-panicked.

"We have to assume those nipples grew for a reason. Come now, Commander, don't be shy."

Trip scowled and raised his wrist to reveal the row of nipples that had developed there. "I don't see what the heck she's supposed to get out of these things. I'm pretty sure there aren't any mammary glands in my arm."

"You'd be surprised what can develop when the right hormones are involved," Phlox said. "But you have two perfectly good nipples on your chest, if you'd prefer to try those first."

"Can't you just give her a bottle?"

"Mother's milk is infinitely superior to any formula I can come up with."

"I'm not its mother! I'm not even really its daddy. I'm just some kind of _pod_ or something. If you think I'm breastfeeding this kid you've got another think coming!" Trip felt hysteria rising.

"Perhaps you require some privacy," Phlox said, clearly disapproving, and yanked the curtains shut around Trip, leaving him alone with a screaming baby.

"I DON'T REQUIRE PRIVACY! WHAT I REQUIRE IS A BOTTLE!"

If Phlox had any response, it was drowned out by the baby's bloodcurdling screams.

"Goddamn it!" Trip yelled. The baby was turning red with rage or who-knew-what. Probably it didn't appreciate the screaming on top of its hunger.

"Look," Trip said, trying to calm both of them down. "I highly doubt you're going to get anything, but if you want to try, go right ahead." He started with his chest because the baby was already rooting around desperately as if it just knew there was something to be found. "I can't _believe_ this," he muttered, as he guided the little mouth towards one of his nipples, which had indeed become a bit dark and swollen in recent days.

"Ow!" he said, as the baby latched on and began to suck.

Then something miraculous happened. The baby stopped screaming and sucked instead. Its shiny surface gradually coalesced from red to tan.

"Son of a bitch," Trip muttered, amazed.

The baby opened one pale green eye and gazed up at him.

"Well look at you," Trip said. And he was smitten.

x x x

"What are you going to call her?" Jon asked. He couldn't help watching in repulsed fascination as the little Xyrillian contentedly sucked at one of his chief engineer's slightly engorged breasts. When they'd first walked in Trip had given him a dangerous look, as if he just dared him to say one word about it.

"I don't know," Trip said. "Hoshi's got me set up with a universal translator but we're not really sure if she's going to hear me in Xyrillian or Standard. We also don't know anything about their naming conventions. Right now I'm pretty much just calling her Sweet Pea."

T'Pol frowned. "In what way does this child suggest a small legume to you?"

"She's small and she's sweet," Trip said. "Thus, Sweet Pea. It's completely logical."

"We haven't picked up any more traces," Jon said. "We're trying to track down their home world based on the name _Thera, _but it doesn't show up in the Vulcan database and who knows how far away it will be even if we can track it down. If I were you I'd go ahead and give her whatever name you want."

"I don't know, Cap'n. If I name her I might want to keep her. And I'm pretty sure she'd be better off sneaking around the universe with other Xyrillians, even if that means she's going to go up to strange guys and ask them if they want to stick their hands in some pebbles." He caressed his daughter's head and lowered his voice. "Isn't that right, pumpkin?"

T'Pol looked impatient. "I believe a pumpkin is a great deal larger than a pea."

"Still sweet, though," Trip said. "Just like all the great baby nicknames … honey… sweet potato … sweetie pie … apple dumpling…" It seemed he was trying each one out in turn. The baby gazed steadily up at him as if she had some idea she was being addressed.

"Does it not alarm you that all these names are food items?" T'Pol said.

"Course not," Trip said, "She's so sweet I could just eat her up!"

"It appears that the terminology of human parenting has a deep-seated linguistic relationship with cannibalism."

Trip laughed. Jon watched his friend and felt a pang. Trip was really different somehow. He was laughing at T'Pol instead of arguing with her, and obsessing about this alien child's well-being. And he hadn't asked even one question about his warp engines.

x x x

When T'Pol stopped at the mess hall for dinner a week later she couldn't help but notice a table in the corner was generating far more noise than usual. To her surprise, Commander Tucker was sitting there with the baby dozing in his arms despite the high volume of the proceedings. Most of the noise was coming from his other companions: Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Sato, and Ensign Mayweather. Everyone else in the mess appeared to be watching more or less surreptitiously as the senior bridge crew engaged in their excessively lively conversation.

"Ah'choo!" Sato said, and they all laughed.

"Ah'men?" said Mayweather.

"How about Ah'ah'ah!" Reed said. "Like she wants to sneeze but she can't…"

"Ah'Bey'Cey," Sato said, then explained, "It's Spanish."

"Ah'Be Seeing You in All the Old Familiar Places," sang Mayweather, which caused everyone else in the mess to stop and look at him in surprise. He had a surprisingly

agreeable tenor.

"Hey, since when do you sing?" Sato asked him.

"None of your business," Mayweather said. "Come on, guys, Commander Tucker needs our help. A good name that begins with Ah'…"

"Ah'Shit!" Reed said.

"Stop it!" Tucker said, laughing so hard he was practically crying. "I don't want anymore of your help! You guys suck!"

T'Pol decided he must be speaking ironically, since she had seldom seen the engineer look happier.

She stood there with her tray and realized with an odd pang that if she approached their table the "fun" the humans were having would almost certainly evaporate. And while this was technically to be desired, especially since this display was hardly ideal in front of so many lower-ranking crew members, it would be unfortunate if the Commander were to lose this opportunity for social interaction after the isolation he had been experiencing recently.

Luckily, at that moment a group of crewmen left their table and she saw the opportunity to quietly creep across the room and sit down.

"Ah'Bu Dhabi," Sato suggested.

"Ah'Baby I Love You I Really Do," said Reed.

Their energy level seemed to be fading. T'Pol hoped her presence didn't have anything to do with it, but they didn't seem to be aware of her. Instead they appeared to now be focused on Commander Tucker, who was intent on the baby. "Hey there, Sweet Pea," she heard him say. "Decided to join the fun? Hungry?"

Reed sounded a little horrified as he said, "You're not going to actually…?"

"No, Lieutenant, I'm not going to shock your delicate sensibilities with a display of male breastfeeding in the mess hall." Commander Tucker stood up. "I'll see y'all later." He hoisted the now-whimpering baby to his shoulder and headed out.

Every head in the place turned to watch them go, and it occurred to T'Pol that Tucker and his baby were now the subject of much more general curiosity than she was.

x x x

"Ah'na."

"What?" Trip looked up, puzzled, from where he was trying to diagnose a problem with the sensors. He was still officially on medical leave, but technical mysteries had begun to come his way, especially from T'Pol, who considered it illogical to put up with malfunctioning sensors for six hours when she could come to him and get the problem fixed in less time.

He'd agreed to help her as long as the baby slept. With the limited and disrupted sleep he was getting, he wasn't feeling terribly sharp. Still, he was pleased that T'Pol had actually admitted to holding his skills in high regard, so he had pulled up sensor array diagnostics on his cabin monitor and set about looking for the problem.

"You wanted suggestions for names," T'Pol said. "Ah'na is a name that I believe might serve your purpose."

Trip stopped and stared at her. "You've been thinking of names too? Is the whole crew thinking of names?"

"Possibly. There has been much discussion, not all of it helpful."

Trip snorted. "You can say that again." Hoshi was still sending him every silly suggestion she heard, as well as some serious ones.

"It has been two weeks since her birth. A child must have a name, Commander."

"Uh huh," he said. It was kind of funny that even T'Pol wanted to get in on the action. "I think I see the problem. There's a fault in the controller for the lateral array. That's going to have to be fixed on site. I'll explain the situation to Lieutenant Hess if you want, but it's up to her to schedule the repair."

"Understood."

"Ah'na, huh? Lieutenant Hess would like that one."

"Ensign Sato checked the translation for me; it apparently has no literal meaning, so it should not pose a problem in Xryllian."

"Like it would if it meant, for example, 'stinky butt'."

T'Pol just raised an eyebrow.

Trip had already decided on a name, but he'd been enjoying the flow of suggestions so much he hadn't told anybody yet. Clearly, however, it was time to start letting people know. "I was thinking of Ah'lane, actually. Laney for a nickname. My Great Aunt Delaney always claimed she'd been abducted by a UFO, so it seems appropriate."

"It is not an unpleasant-sounding name," T'Pol said. "I assume it also doesn't mean 'Stinky Butt' in Xyrillian."

Trip laughed. "No. Hoshi thinks a 'lane' may be some kind of food item, perhaps a melon."

"It may be an extremely appropriate name for your child, in that case."

The baby started to whimper in her little bassinet. "Speak of the devil," Trip said, and went over to pick her up. "Well hello there, Laney Sweet Potato Stinky Butt!" He looked over at T'Pol. "Seriously, I am talking stinky butt here. Now would be a good time to make your escape."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather stay," T'Pol said, to his surprise. "I also wanted to get your opinion on a weapons system upgrade proposed by Lieutenant Reed."

"Oh. Okay. Well, first things first." He set about changing the baby's diaper, while she kicked and cooed. "Aren't you a poopy little baby? How'd you manage to do all this when you're so tiny, huh? You're gonna overload the ship's recyclers! There will be baby poop everywhere!"

"That hardly seems likely," T'Pol said.

Trip just smiled and snapped baby back up into her little outfit. "Here," he said, and handed her to T'Pol. "I need to wash my hands. Don't forget to support her neck."

T'Pol looked surprised and a little discomfited, but took the baby. Trip went into the bathroom to wash up.

Was it at all possible the science officer was thinking of excuses to hang out with him?

Nah. Probably it was just like she said – she just wanted to find the fastest solution to her problems.

He looked in the mirror and realized he hadn't shaved in two days. For that matter, when was the last time he'd managed to get a shower? He was probably offending her sensitive Vulcan nose so badly a little baby poop didn't seem any worse.

Well, as long as he was doing favors for T'Pol, maybe she could do one for him.

"T'Pol?" he asked, sticking his head out the bathroom door.

"Yes?" she said. She had laid the baby down on her lap and seemed to be engaging in some sort of check of her muscular functions. Or possibly she was just intrigued by the sparking phenomenon. Laney didn't seem to mind and was staring up at the first officer with interest.

"Would you mind hanging out with her while I grab a quick shower? I promise I'll be fast. It's kind of hard for me to get one these days."

"You may proceed."

x x x

No sooner had Tucker disappeared into the bathroom again than the baby began to squirm and fuss.

T'Pol reasoned that as a grown, mature woman she should be capable of handling the problem. She stood up and walked around the cabin with the infant, who quieted and looked around with interest.

"Your father is growing grass in his cabin for you," T'Pol said. "I do not understand his compulsion to do so, but I believe you can take it as a mark of his affection."

The baby began to whimper. T'Pol took this as her cue and kept moving. "As you can see, we are currently at warp," she said, taking the baby to the window. "Star Fleet has requested we stop at the site of a former human colony known as Terra Nova. Unfortunately, this has at least temporarily taken priority over finding your mother or her home planet."

She walked around the cabin, lifting up items to show the child. The first was a photograph of a man in scuba gear. "Your father's planet has a great deal of water on it," she said. "And apparently he feels compelled to enter it."

Another picture was of Commander Tucker and Captain Archer. "This is a picture of your father and the captain," she said. "They have known each other for some time."

Next was a photograph of a young woman T'Pol decided was likely a girlfriend or a relative; her wide grin did have a certain Tucker quality to it. "I do not know who this person is," she told the baby. "Perhaps when you are older he will tell you. If we cannot find your mother I imagine you will have many opportunities to find out."

Unfortunately, T'Pol reflected, this would probably also mean that Enterprise would lose a chief engineer whose talents in that area were significant enough to outweigh the deficits he possessed in other areas, like diplomacy and enunciation.

She stopped at a large, metallic helmet that Tucker had on top of his locker. "This appears to be an antique of some kind," T'Pol said. "I do not understand what purpose it serves other than decoration. Perhaps it carries some kind of familial totem importance."

But the baby did not look up, instead demonstrating a very specific interest in T'Pol's breast. Her tiny hands attempted to grasp it as her little mouth rooted about, looking for access.

"I do not believe you will find what you are looking for there," she admonished the infant.

Tucker's bathroom door swished open and he came out, hair wet but neatly combed, face newly smooth. He was holding a towel tightly around his waist. "Forgot to take clean clothes in," he said, his face flushing pink, and went to root in his locker.

"I believe she is hungry," T'Pol said, as the baby continued to gum at the uniform covering her breast and whimper.

"You got that right," he said, sounding amused. "She probably thinks she just landed in heaven. Just a minute, sweet bottom, Daddy needs to get his pants on."

T'Pol began to doubt the wisdom of having stayed. Clearly, Tucker's parenting responsibilities were consuming a great deal of his time right now. Also, it seemed possible the engineer had interpreted it as an opportunity for a more casual relationship than was desirable between fellow officers.

However, the man clearly did need to get his pants on. And at least his odor had significantly improved since his shower.

He went into the bathroom again, then came out bare-chested and reached out for the baby. "I have to feed her, T'Pol. I'm sure you don't want to have to witness that, so why don't you leave Reed's proposal with me and I'll get back to you on it as soon as I can?"

"I do not have any difficulty staying if you feel you can address his proposal at the same time."

Tucker squinted at her. "Vulcans are less squeamish than humans on this one, then. Let me get her settled and I'll take a look." He sat on his bunk, against a pile of pillows he'd stacked against the wall, and positioned the whimpering child to suck. She latched on and quieted immediately.

"Okay. Whatcha got?" he said.

She handed over the PADD. "I am most concerned about his request to reroute a percentage of power from gravity plating to the phase cannon assembly."

"Mm," Tucker said, and started reading. "I think Malcolm would re-route life support to weapons if he could. Sure you don't want me to just read this and get back to you?"

"Mr. Reed can be quite persistent."

Tucker grunted again. "Why don't you send Lieutenant Hess a repair request on that sensor problem, as long as you're waiting? Tell her I said it's an electrical fault in section 32B on the lateral array."

"A logical suggestion," T'Pol said, and sat down at his desk to log into her mailbox.

She worded a repair request and sent it out, then checked her other mail. As long as Tucker was reading she might as well handle her correspondence.

She was surprised, as she worked her way down through her in-box, to encounter a transfer request from Ensign Masaro, one of Tucker's junior officers. She turned to ask his opinion and found the engineer was snoring gently, the PADD lying screen-side down on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around the also-dozing infant.

She should not have imposed on the man's medical leave. Fatherhood was clearly absorbing far more of his energy than she had realized. She logged off Tucker's station and quietly walked over to carefully retrieve the PADD. He didn't stir. She walked to the door and dimmed the lights before she left.

x x x 

"I found them!" Hoshi said. Jon looked up from the report on the PADD in his hand. It had been an uneventful shift on the bridge; they were still on course for Terra Nova.

"You've made contact with the Terra Novans?" Travis said, sounding excited.

"No, I've found the Xyrillians!"

"What? Are you serious?" Jon walked over to her station. He couldn't believe it.

"I've been scanning for any communications with their signature or even just using their language, and I've just detected a number of subspace exchanges. It's definitely them!"

"Can you fix a location?"

Hoshi looked confused. "Yes, sir – but we can also hail them."

"Oh. Right. Kind of hard to believe it could be that easy after all this time. Great work, Hoshi!" He turned to T'Pol. "Do you see any signs of any Klingon battle cruisers in their vicinity?"

"No, sir. I'm not reading any vessels. I would imagine they are still cloaked."

"I can't believe we finally found them!" Jon felt jubilant. It looked like his chief engineer's bizarre detour into parenthood might finally be coming to an end. "Open a channel!"

x x x

T'Pol listened to the Captain cheerfully making arrangements to return Ah'Lane to the Xyrillians and experienced a growing sense of unease.

She exchanged glances with Ensign Sato and the other bridge officers and noticed concern on their faces as well.

"Great. I'm glad that's settled!" Archer said. He smiled at T'Pol. "Shall we go give Trip the good news?"

"Captain!" T'Pol said.

"Yes, Subcommander?" He got that bland expression on his face that T'Pol knew meant he was expecting her to come up with some obscure Vulcan objection.

"Have you considered that Commander Tucker may not consider this good news at all?"

"What are you talking about?" Archer said. "He was upset when I told him we had to break off the search to head for Terra Nova."

"That was a couple of weeks ago, Captain," Sato said. "I think he's gotten pretty used to the idea that he's a daddy now."

Archer scowled. "He knew this was temporary from the beginning."

"We're all going to miss Laney," Reed said, somewhat to T'Pol's surprise. "She's ... well, she's very entertaining."

"Yeah, it's been real nice having a baby around," Mayweather said.

Archer was clearly taken aback by their reactions. "Well, yes, I know, she's cute as a button – but she's still a Xyrillian. She deserves the opportunity to grow up among her own people."

Sato said, "We understand that, Captain. It's just not going to be easy to say goodbye. Especially for Commander Tucker. And you're not exactly giving him a lot of time to adjust. Three _hours_, sir?"

Archer frowned. "Need I remind you that we're on a mission, Ensign?"

But T'Pol could tell he was beginning to realize he'd discounted a simple fact that everyone else seemed to understand – that their chief engineer had fallen head over heels in love with his alien baby.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews. Like all authors here, I sure do like to get 'em. Debate is welcome. You can even just write to tell me I really grossed you out! There's one more chapter coming after this.

* * *

"How do you suggest we handle this?" Jon asked T'Pol in the turbolift. He was rattled and confused by the realization that even a Vulcan was apparently more attuned to his friend's feelings than he was.

"It might be a good idea to get the doctor involved," T'Pol said. She looked uncomfortable.

"Trip knew this day would come," Jon said, but without conviction. The galaxy was huge, and it was entirely possible they would never have found the Xyrillians.

"He may decide to go with them," T'Pol said.

"What?"

"He may feel he needs to stay with his daughter, even if it means leaving the ship."

Jon felt his stomach drop. "You really think he's that attached to her?"

"Yes. He has also demonstrated a great deal of flexibility. I do not think he would rule out leaving his own people behind."

"We can't have that," Jon said.

"It would be unfortunate," T'Pol agreed.

"Besides, I'm sure he would regret it eventually."

"We cannot know that. I believe Commander Tucker has an unusual capacity for adapting to new situations."

Jon frowned. T'Pol looked as detached as ever, but it was clear that significant respect for Trip had replaced what had once been barely-disguised disdain.

She might be a Vulcan but she was still a woman, he reminded himself. And women always were suckers for a man and a baby.

x x x

"You've found them?" Commander Tucker said. His arms tightened on Laney, who protested with a grunt and began to fuss.

After consulting with Phlox, they had asked Tucker to bring the baby to sick bay, where there was ample room for three adults and a baby. His quarters were particularly tight these days, between the grass and the baby gear.

Archer explained how Hoshi had found the Xyrillians. "After that it was a simple matter of making contact. We rendezvous with them in three hours."

Tucker blanched. The baby began to fuss. He began to pace back and forth, patting the baby soothingly. "Did you tell them about Laney?"

"Yes, of course," Archer said. "Ah'len was obviously surprised, but she seemed quite pleased. She's very excited to meet her daughter."

"You could have asked me first." Trip's voice was tight.

"It never occurred to me I needed to, Trip. You've agreed all along that it would be best to reunite this child with her people."

T'Pol exchanged a glance with Phlox. Archer seemed to have decided that if he had to bully his engineer into this, then that was what he was going to do.

Tucker's expression was stormy. "I'm not so sure about that anymore. She's doing fine with me. Who knows if she'll do as well over there? Besides, I'm on the only parent she's ever known."

"Commander," Phlox said. "I understand that this is very difficult for you. And normally I would agree with you. However, the reality is that we don't even know for sure that she _is_ doing fine."

"Of course we do! She's gaining weight. She's growing. You said it yourself, she's a happy baby."

"She certainly appears to be, but we know nothing about Xyrillian growth and development. If Laney were falling behind developmentally, we might not even realize it. If she got sick, I'm not sure I'd know how to treat it. You know how different their environment is, their diet. We can't be sure how long she'll remain healthy in ours." Phlox grimaced apologetically. "I haven't shared these concerns with you before, Commander, because I didn't want to worry you needlessly, but they are very real."

Tucker looked stricken. Laney began to whimper.

"Beyond which, the fact remains that you can't expect to raise a baby on a starship," Archer said.

"I know that!" Tucker said. "I've already been talking to Starfleet about making the switch to Research and Development."

"And just when the hell were you going to tell me that?" Archer demanded.

This discussion was quickly growing irrational. "Commander Tucker," T'Pol said softly. "Even assuming you could do so safely, if you were to raise Laney on earth, she might never meet another Xyrillian for the rest of her life. She will be the only one of her kind, a constant object of curiosity. Is that what you want for her?"

"No!" Tucker said. His eyes filled with tears, and Laney began to wail in earnest. "But how do I know she'll be any better off with them?"

Phlox clucked. "When you take Laney to her mother, you can decide that for yourself. I'm sure they'll be happy to set your mind at ease."

"And just what's the big rush, anyway!" Trip said. "Why can't we have some time to get used to the idea? Not to mention all that stuff I need to pack. And how do you even know she can handle the decompression at her age?"

Phlox was prepared for that question. "I've already been talking to their doctor. She assures me there will be no problem at all. We do agree it's probably better not to administer any Mirazine to her at her age, so I'm afraid it will take the full six hours."

"So you've actually got more time to get used to the idea than you think," Archer said.

The look Tucker shot him verged on murderous.

"We're also going to send someone over with you," Archer said. His voice had turned steely. "Phlox has volunteered to keep you company."

"No!" Tucker said. He looked a little hysterical at the idea. "No offense, doc, but I don't think I could handle your optimism for six hours straight in a small room right now. I'd rather be alone with her."

"That's not an option, Trip," Archer said. T'Pol and the captain had already discussed this and agreed they needed someone along to make sure the transfer went as smoothly as possible – and also to try to make sure Trip returned when his visit was over. "I'll go with you if you'd like." Archer smiled encouragingly, but T'Pol could tell he wasn't thrilled at the idea of spending six hours in a small decompression chamber with an emotionally distraught engineer and a crying baby.

Tucker just shook his head angrily.

"Pick someone then," Archer said. "I don't care who, but someone. You're not going over there alone. You're too upset."

"T'Pol, then," Tucker said.

T'Pol blinked, surprised. "Why me?" she asked.

"Laney likes you," Tucker said. "And at least _you_ won't try to cheer me up."

x x x

Three hours. Trip couldn't believe the captain expected him to pack up his daughter and ship her off to a ship full of aliens in just three hours. He checked his chronometer. Damn. More like two and a half hours.

They're not aliens, he reminded himself. Not to his daughter, anyway.

And she wasn't even really his daughter anyway, technically. Genetically.

Bullshit. Of course she was. Calcium from his bones had formed her bones. He was the one who'd grown her from a tiny clump of cells, fed her, cared for her, loved her. He sure as hell was her father. And didn't that give him any rights? What made Jon so damned sure it was the right thing to give Laney up to these sneaky, resource-siphoning, malfunction-causing, stranger-impregnating people anyway?

The door chirped. He opened it.

T'Pol stood there, looking a little awkward. "T'Pol," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"I thought perhaps you could use some assistance packing."

Trip stepped aside to let her in.

"I guess I could. I don't know even know what to pack. And she won't let me put her down, which doesn't make it very easy."

"She appears to be soundly sleeping at the moment," T'Pol pointed out.

"Okay, so maybe I just don't _want_ to put her down."

T'Pol stared at him for a moment, probably getting ready to tell him how irrational he was being. But instead she turned and surveyed his cabin. "Perhaps we could begin with her clothing."

Trip nodded. He had a surprisingly large supply, mostly in the same blue cotton that was used in Starfleet undergarments. The quartermaster had been excited at the opportunity to dress a baby. Laney even had her own little Starfleet uniform, complete with red engineering stripes. "Leave that one out," Trip said. "I want her to wear that one." He wanted the Xyrillians to see which crew she really belonged to.

"Is there anything you wish to keep?" T'Pol asked.

"To keep?"

"I have observed that humans are fond of collecting mementos."

"I don't give a damn about mementos. I just want her."

Once again, she refrained from arguing with him and merely started to organize piles of clothing on his bunk. Trip walked over to the window and stared out, trying to ignore what she was doing. It made it seem far too real.

"Perhaps you'd like to take her to say goodbye to some of the crew," she suggested. "Many of them have said that they are going to miss her."

"She's going to wake up soon and then she'll be hungry," Trip said. "Maybe after that." He sat down in his desk chair, feeling suddenly boneless. "Thank you for helping me."

"Do you have a case I can put these in?"

"Bottom of my locker."

She went and pulled out a Starfleet duffel and started packing stuff away. He just watched her, conscious of Laney's comforting weight against his chest. He felt oddly detached.

That's when it hit him: What if he stayed with Laney over there?

They could use a good engineer.

Of course, it would mean he'd probably never see his own family on earth again. Or his friends at home and on Enterprise. Or Natalie. He hadn't even tried to tell her about Laney yet; he was pretty sure it wouldn't go over well.

He hadn't told anyone back home about Laney. He still had no idea how to explain it. If he left now, maybe he'd never have to. Jon would get stuck with that job. Which served him right.

Trip was sure his family would understand eventually. This was his daughter, after all.

And he knew Ah'len found him attractive. But did she really like him that much? Would the Xyrillians even want him there?

He'd be the alien, instead of his daughter. But at least he'd be with her. And if he took some decent scans over with him, maybe they could replicate earth on that fancy holographic machine of theirs. He might even get to figure out how that fancy holographic machine of theirs worked. That cloaking device, too. And then maybe when Laney was older, he could find his way home.

He didn't have to decide right away. Still, if he were going, there were certain things he'd want to have with him. And he'd have to do it without tipping off T'Pol or Archer. He began to look around the room, deciding what was most important to him.

He grabbed a PADD and started downloading his store of photographs into it.

"What are you doing?" T'Pol asked. She zipped up the duffel and laid it next to the door.

"Did you put any diapers in that thing?" he asked.

"No."

"Six hours, T'Pol. Stuff as many in as you can. It's not like we can use them here after she's gone."

She complied. "You didn't answer my question," she said.

"I thought she might want to have some pictures of my family," he lied. "For when she's older, in case she wants to know about me."

"Perhaps you could record a letter for her also," T'Pol said. "Tell her about her early life with you."

"Mm," Trip said, noncommittally. Really, given the limited time he had, it was his own family he should leave a letter for, just in case.

She gave him an assessing look. "Are you planning to leave us, Commander?"

He hoped his surprise didn't show on his face. "No," he said, probably not very convincingly.

"If that is your choice, I will not attempt to stop you. But I know the captain and the rest of the crew would experience it as a great loss. No doubt your relations on earth would as well."

They stared at each other for a moment. There was something about T'Pol's straightforwardness that discouraged him from lying. "I don't know what I'm going to do," he admitted.

T'Pol said, "Six hours is a long time for a lactating human to go without sustenance. I'll go request the chef to pack some provisions and also collect her medical records from the doctor." And she left.

Trip shook his head. _Lactating human_. That Vulcan straightforwardness could also be pretty rough on a man's ego. On the other hand, Laney was beginning to stir, and he could already feel the milk 'letting down' in preparation for her next feeding. If he hadn't felt the sensation himself, he wasn't sure he'd ever have believed it.

x x x

Jon could hear the ruckus on the bridge from his ready room and knew what it had to be even before he opened the door.

Hoshi had Laney in her arms. Trip had dressed the baby in that ridiculous miniature uniform the quartermaster had given him. "I'm going to miss you, sweetums," Hoshi crooned. The baby stared back at her as if mesmerized.

Trip looked pale and miserable. Jon was glad he'd made time to do the rounds anyway. He wasn't sure he liked the look of him as he did it, though. Trip was studying his friends and the bridge like a man who wasn't sure he'd ever see them again. Perhaps Hoshi had an instinct too; she hugged Trip just as hard as she hugged the baby.

Travis took Laney with one of those sparkling smiles of his. Having grown up on a Boomer ship, he was obviously used to having children around. Malcolm didn't reach out for Laney and Trip didn't hand her over, but his armory officer did stick his finger in her hand until she'd closed her tiny fingers on it. "We'll miss you, lovey," he said, looking more upset than Jon would have expected. He patted Trip awkwardly on the shoulder. "Good luck," he said. "Don't forget to come back."

Trip just patted him back.

Trip made the rounds with the crew back in the situation room, then stopped in front of his commanding officer. "I don't think you've ever held her," he said, his tone just short of accusatory.

Jon suddenly realized he was right. "I never was good with kids."

"Try it now," Trip said, and handed Laney over before Jon could protest.

She was so light! She didn't protest, just twisted to look up at him curiously, apparently quite content to be passed around from person to person. "Hey there, cutie," Jon said, looking back down at her and bouncing her instinctively.

"You know, maybe this wouldn't be so easy for you if you'd done a little more of that," Trip said. His voice was low and his eyes were full of the pain of betrayal.

"Maybe that's why I've avoided it," Jon said. "I don't know if I could be strong enough to do what you're about to do." He stared back at Trip as if he could somehow force him to understand – and will him to come back to them. "I'm really sorry, Trip." He felt his own eyes fill, and handed Laney back. "Safe journey," he added as his throat closed up. Suddenly he was quite certain his friend wasn't coming back.

Trip ducked his head. "I guess we'd better go," he choked out, and left.

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the feedback. I've been slogging away on general fiction for five years now, suffering countless rejections in the process. This has been a really nice little break for my slightly downtrodden ego.

* * *

T'Pol had been meditating for some time when she heard Trip stir.

"How long has it been?" he whispered. He'd fallen asleep against the wall with an exhausted Laney in his arms. She hadn't liked the decompression chamber one bit, especially once it started filling with gas, and she had screamed in terror for some time before she'd finally accepted the comfort of her father's breast and fallen asleep. Commander Tucker had started snoring lightly not long after.

"Two hours and twenty-three minutes," T'Pol said.

Tucker yawned. "She didn't like that gas any more than I did the first time."

"It was uncomfortable," T'Pol agreed.

"You got anything to drink there?" Tucker asked. "I'm parched."

T'Pol fished in her case and handed over a water bag.

"Thanks." He drank, and she watched his larynx bob up and down in his neck as he swallowed.

She knew, from conversations she had overheard in the mess, that many of the females on the ship considered Tucker an attractive male. At first she had not been able to determine to her satisfaction why this was, since his facial features had initially struck her as ordinary relative to other light-toned Caucasian human males. Her early opinion had also been that he suffered from excessive hair growth.

However, she had begun to find his features more agreeable as time passed. She had overheard Ensign Sato and Ensign Cutler discussing this same phenomenon one day Cutler had said she thought it was actually Tucker's personality that made him attractive, especially his smile and his ready interest in others. T'Pol thought there might indeed be something to this theory. But of course it was also well understood on Vulcan, where one might not even see one's mate as an adult before marriage, that a great deal of physical attraction consisted simply of becoming accustomed to someone.

Apparently, in the three-plus months they had been in space, she had become accustomed to Commander Tucker.

"Have you made a decision about whether you will return to Enterprise?" she asked, when he handed the bag back to her.

He shook his head. "I guess I'll see how it goes. They may not even want me."

"I believe there is also some question about the long-term suitability of the environment for your physiology."

"I don't know. I got pretty used to it after three days," Trip said. "But it was definitely hard at first. They're probably going to recommend a nap when we get out. I know the captain is in a hurry, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to take them up on it."

"Vulcans don't take naps."

He smiled. "The Klingons didn't seem to need one either. You'll probably be fine. Me, I plan to nap if there's an opportunity. I wonder if they still have that recording."

"Recording?"

"The captain sent over a recording of ocean waves to help me relax when I lost it that first day." He sighed and looked suddenly remorseful. "That was pretty thoughtful of him."

"He can be thoughtful at times."

"I guess it helps make up for the times when he's an insensitive pain in the ass."

"Indeed," T'Pol said, without thinking.

Trip gave her a sidelong look. "I know he can sure give you a hard time, especially when it comes to the Vulcan stuff." He sighed. "Then again, so do I sometimes, huh?"

She judged it best not to answer. Still, she found it oddly satisfying that he was conscious of the phenomenon.

He looked down at Laney, who was still deeply asleep. "Sometimes when she's sleeping she gives off heat like a furnace," he said. "I guess it will be nice to know whether that's normal or not."

"She appears to be extremely healthy," T'Pol said. "You have been a far more capable parent than I would have expected."

He looked amused. "And you have been far better friend than I would have expected. In fact, I'd say you'd make a pretty good godmother."

She tilted her head curiously. "Godmother?"

He grinned. "Not anything you need to worry about now." His smile faded. "I guess I shouldn't wake her up just to spend more time with her, should I? She might start screaming again."

"We do have over three and one half hours of decompression to go."

He looked down at his daughter as if he were trying to memorize her. Softly, he said, "That seems like no time at all."

x x x

Laney would not stop screaming.

"Laney, darling, it's okay, you're fine," Trip crooned, grabbing her back from Ah'len and trying to calm her down. Ah'len had flushed bright red as her daughter made it clear in no uncertain terms that she wanted nothing to do with her.

"She's just a little overwhelmed," Trip explained, conscious that Ah'len herself looked as if she might cry. Other Xyrillians were looking on in obvious consternation.

"Perhaps if you had a quieter, more private area," T'Pol suggested. "The child is likely suffering from over-stimulation."

Trip thought T'Pol sounded just a touch over-stimulated herself. Maybe she wasn't quite as immune to the transition as she had confidently predicted she would be. He wasn't having much trouble himself, perhaps because it wasn't new to him, or perhaps because he was so focused on Laney.

"You're probably right," said the woman who had been introduced as their doctor. "Follow me."

Trip followed the doctor to the same quarters they'd assigned him that first time aboard. He resisted the urge to stop on the way and say, "Look at the eels, Laney!" She was crying too hysterically, her face buried against his neck, her tiny hands gripping him fiercely.

"I do not understand why she does not recognize the scent of her mother!" Ah'len said.

"That is to be expected," the doctor reassured her. "How could she? Her initial bond was with another. Do not worry, she is still very young. She will soon transfer her attachment, I assure you."

"Let me just give her a suck," Trip said, sitting down on that big red whatever-it-was and trying to peel Laney off his neck. "That always calms her down."

"We have a feeding tube," the doctor said.

"I don't need one," Trip said, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Laney sensed what he was doing and all but dove for his chest. She latched on and began to suckle between the occasional hiccupping sniffle, one hand rhythmically tightening on Trip's chest.

"There now, that's better," Trip said. He looked up and realized that both Xyrillians were staring at him.

In horror.

"What?" he said defensively. "Don't you people breastfeed?"

"But you're a male!" the doctor said. "Aren't you?" She suddenly looked doubtful.

He glanced at T'Pol. "YES! And don't your males have the babies?"

"Well, yes, of course," Ah'len said. "And then their mothers raise them. What do you think we have these breasts for?"

He had wondered that, actually. Ah'len certainly had a rather unforgettable pair. "If that's true, then why the hell did I start growing nipples up my arm when I was pregnant with her?"

"You started growing nipples up your arm?" the doctor said. "That is a rather unusual symptom. I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing."

Trip slumped. Why hadn't he seen this coming? "So you're telling me this is weird here too."

"Yes. Extremely," Ah'len said. She actually looked a little ill.

He scowled. "Well, I'm _sorry,_ but we didn't know that and she was hungry. And obviously, a guy can feed a baby too. In fact, our doctor told me I'm far from the first human male to do it. Put the right hormones in and _bam,_ you got yourself some mother's milk. Or father's, in this case."

"Father's?" Ah'len said.

"Yeah, father's. You know. Father, daddy, papa? The paternal figure? The guy who helps you raise the child?"

They looked blank. Trip looked at T'Pol for help.

"On our home planets each child has two parents, a male and a female," T'Pol said.

Ah'len looked bemused. "Our only parent is our mother. Xyrillian males belong to their mothers and serve as hosts for anyone in the clan who needs it. They support and protect all of their mother's descendents equally."

"How do you avoid the problem of genetic degradation from repeated expression of the same DNA?" T'Pol asked.

The doctor chuckled. "Oh, there's no lack of recombination. A Xyrillian female mates with many different extra-clan males during her egg cycle."

"Just figures that I missed the good part," Trip groused.

T'Pol shot him a reproving look. He scowled right back at her.

"Will the child be confused the rest of her life?" Ah'len asked the doctor anxiously.

"Her name's Laney," Trip said. "I mean, Ah'lane. I tried to keep it related it to you somehow."

Ah'len and the doctor exchanged looks.

"What?" Trip said. He was getting really tired of unpleasant revelations.

"On Thera, a 'lane' is a large, squat fruit," the doctor said.

"Indeed," T'Pol said. "And do you also use this term as an endearment for babies?

"No," Ah'len said. "We use it as a synonym for 'large and squat'. It would be considered rather cruel. We will have to choose something more appropriate."

"Though she is quite a plump little baby," the doctor observed. "Apparently you have been feeding her quite well."

Trip couldn't take any more of this. "Are you saying I've made her fat? Do you people think I've done _anything_ right?"

"I didn't say she was fat," the doctor said quickly. "Just a little plump."

T'Pol's voice betrayed a hint of impatience. "I assure you that by both human and Vulcan standards Commander Tucker has been an exemplary parent. You could not have asked for a more attentive caregiver."

Trip gave a little sigh. He could just kiss T'Pol for saying that.

"Oh, it's clear he's performed surprisingly well," the doctor said, scanning Laney with a small, hand-held device. "She is in extremely good health, and she has clearly formed a strong attachment. I'm sure it will be relatively easy to transition her to a normal attachment to her mother. No one need ever know her first month was so ... _exotic_."

"And the sooner we accomplish this, the better," Ah'len said. She gave the doctor a pleading look. "They are probably already wondering what's wrong with her, that she was clinging to a man like that."

Trip shook his head in disgust. "Did anyone ever tell you people you have some pretty sexist attitudes?"

"Commander," T'Pol said quickly, "It is not our place to judge another species' family systems or cultural mores."

"It is when it concerns my daughter! How do I know she's not better off just staying with me?"

Ah'len and the doctor looked shocked. T'Pol stood up a little straighter – probably wondering if he might be about to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, the hours of recompression involved didn't exactly make that a realistic option. He'd known before he left Enterprise that there would be no going back for Laney. What he hadn't been sure about was whether he would be going back himself.

But it was obvious there was no place for him here.

"Don't worry," he muttered. "I know it's better for her to stay here with you." He shot T'Pol a sullen look. Yes, he'd be a good little Starfleet officer … seeing as he had no choice anyway.

"Of course, I am entirely in your debt, Commander," Ah'len said, perhaps realizing it was time for a little belated graciousness. "And I am extremely sorry about the inconvenience. I assure you, I had no idea this could happen between our two species."

"I don't need your apologies," Trip said. "I just want what's best for Laney." With a pang, he corrected himself. "For your daughter."

"As do we all," the doctor said. "Let us discuss how best to achieve this."

x x x

T'Pol guided Tucker back through the corridors of the ship behind Captain Tre'nal, moving quickly. She hoped that he could not hear Laney's piercing screams as clearly as she could. He was crying so hard she suspected he couldn't even see where he was going.

Laney had been happily playing a Xyrillian baby game with Ah'len when she realized her father was leaving. "Bye, sweetie, I love you," he'd said, unsuccessfully choking back tears, and the baby had immediately started to wail.

"I'm so sorry," Tre'nal said, as he opened the decompression chamber. "We certainly would never have wished to cause such pain."

T'Pol just nodded grimly and pushed Tucker in before her, then waited while the door sealed behind them. It seemed to her the Xyrillians found it all too easy to apologize.

"Doctor Phlox gave us Mirazine for the return trip, Commander," she said, going into her case and pulling out the hypospray. She injected each of them. "It will shorten the decompression time considerably."

He was standing at the door, his fingers spread out across it, his head leaning against it, as if he could somehow sink through it and back to his daughter.

"She is young. She will adjust quickly," T'Pol said. "And it is clearly better for you to return to Enterprise. Leaving her with them was the only viable option."

He just stood there against the door and wept. T'Pol watched and waited and eventually she grew concerned. Surely this much raw emotion could not be healthy, even for a human? When five minutes had passed and he'd shown no sign of stopping, she hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder.

He gripped it with his own for a moment, then turned to face her, his face swollen and splotchy. "It's okay, T'Pol. You don't have to try to make me feel better. I just have to get it out of my system. Just ... ignore me if you can, okay? I'll be fine, I promise."

"There is a sedative available if you wish it," she said. "Dr. Phlox provided it before we left."

He shook his head. "Just ignore me," he repeated, and turned back to the door, spreading his hands against it again.

She sat down and took out a PADD. She would honor his wishes. She had brought work to do, and she also wanted to analyze information she had gathered.

However, she found it difficult to focus, and she began to wonder if human emotions this powerful could be somehow contagious, even to a well-disciplined Vulcan mind.

x x x

Trip eventually cried himself out and slid down to sit against the door, then thought better of it and turned back to lean his forehead against it. He knew his breakdown must be extremely distasteful to T'Pol's Vulcan sensibilities. Even if it wasn't, he didn't particularly want her to see him cleaning up all that snot with his shirt.

_Oh Laney,_ he thought, head against the door. Had she stopped crying yet? At the last minute he'd shoved one of his dirty shirts into the duffel T'Pol had packed, figuring that he would either clean it to use if he stayed, or give it to them for Laney so she'd have a comforting scent nearby if he left. But when he'd produced it for Ah'len, she'd looked distinctly nonplussed.

"It might be better for her just to make a clean break," the doctor had said, trying to smooth it over. "That way the child won't be confused, wondering why she can smell you but you're not there."

"Look, just keep it," Trip said. "Humor me. You don't know how rough the first night might be for her. You people are completely different than anything she's experienced since the day she was born."

"Of course," Ah'len had said. "You are right. We will keep it. Just in case."

He'd almost handed the PADD over to them too, the one with all the family pictures, and the quick letter he'd recorded for Laney, and even some shots he'd gotten in the decompression chamber in the last couple of hours, when she was relaxed and playful and blessedly oblivious to her daddy's growing tension.

He'd almost handed it over, but then he'd realized that they would never show any of it to her. They considered the way she'd been raised thus far somehow shameful ... something to hide. His daughter – who wasn't really his daughter at all, and wasn't going to be called Laney by anyone ever again – would soon forget him.

He fought down another bout of tears. He had a feeling T'Pol might just sneak up on him with that sedative if he lost it again.

Trip had never been particularly religious, but now he leaned against that door and prayed: _Lord, please watch over my Laney. Please watch over her. Please watch over her._

And then he repeated it over and over, until he lost all sense of time, until he arrived at some approximation of peace.

x x x

"How much time do we have left?" Tucker asked.

T'Pol looked up. He'd turned to face her at last, seated on the floor with his back against the door.

He had been so quiet for so long that she had managed to sink into much-needed meditation herself. She blinked and consulted her PADD. "Fifty-four minutes," she said, surprised. She had been in that soothing white space in her mind for longer than she would have guessed.

Tucker grunted. He looked calm. "Were you meditating also?" she asked, curious.

"Praying," Tucker said. "I guess. Maybe you could call it meditating. It's not something I usually have much patience for." He sighed. "You got any more of that water?"

She handed it over. "Would you like something to eat?"

He shook his head. He still looked pale and drawn.

Silence fell. T'Pol suspected that she ought to say something supportive but had no idea what it should be. Tucker had said he didn't want anyone trying to 'cheer him up.' This struck her as odd, since she had fairly often observed him attempting to comfort other crewmen who were in difficult situations.

"Commander, may I ask you a question?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Why did you specifically not wish to be 'cheered up' during this process?" she asked.

He smiled. "Oh, I won't mind some cheering up when I'm ready for it. But sometimes, I guess, a body just likes to be left alone to wallow in his misery for awhile."

"Why would you wish to prolong feelings that are so unpleasant?"

He looked thoughtful. "I guess, sometimes, you just want to go ahead and feel them. I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't be such a basket case right now if I didn't have all these hormones putting the whammy on me. I'm not really sure how much of this is me and how much of it is prolactin. Or some weird Xyrillian hormone. I mean…" He hesitated and began to look overwhelmed again.

"You needn't discuss it if you don't wish to," T'Pol said quickly.

He swallowed hard. "No… no, it's okay. I was just going to say, part of me thinks I'm kind of over-reacting here. I mean, it's not like I wanted to quit Enterprise to raise a kid. It's not like she was even really mine. And it's not like she died. She's probably a whole lot better off here, with her momma. I _should_ be happy for her." He started to tear up again, and shook his head. "Sorry." He turned his head back towards the door.

"Commander," she said. "I believe your reasoning is flawed. You bore that child and raised her from birth for nearly a full month. From your point of view she was very much your daughter. And your loss is complete, since you are unlikely ever to see her again. Indeed, a Vulcan mother who experienced such a loss would typically go into ritual seclusion for at least a month."

"That sounds pretty good right now," Tucker said, his voice muffled by the door.

She kept silent. At least for the next forty-eight minutes, she would try to give him the seclusion he craved.

x x x

Jon had decided that if he was going to mend fences with Trip, he could start by being the one to pick him up. T'Pol had let him know Trip was returning before they went into decompression, but her tone had been particularly inscrutable and Archer had gotten the feeling it would be wiser not to ask anymore about it with the Xyrillians possibly listening in. He'd also resisted the temptation to call during decompression; he didn't want to risk driving Trip back toward Laney, away from Enterprise.

But they would have to converse now. "How's he doing?" he whispered to T'Pol, when he opened the hatch.

"I have no good frame of reference from which to judge," T'Pol said, but she looked subdued. She handed her carry-on down to Archer and turned back, calling, "Commander?"

Jon heard Tucker say, "Give me a minute."

T'Pol hesitated, then climbed down, adding quietly, "It has been difficult for him."

"Probably not a walk in the park for you either," Jon said, patting her on the shoulder. She frowned briefly and Jon wondered if she was perplexed by the figure of speech. She didn't ask him what he meant, though, just moved on to the helm and started running a pre-flight check.

"Trip?" Jon called.

Finally, his chief engineer started down the hatch. He paused for another long moment before shutting the doors behind him, then climbed down the rest of the way.

Jon was prepared for anger, but he didn't see any. Trip just looked exhausted and rumpled. He gave Jon a brief wince of a smile and sank down into the nearest seat.

"You okay?" Jon asked, grasping his shoulder.

"I'll be fine."

"Would you like me to pilot?" T'Pol asked.

"No, I'll do it," Jon said. As long as he had to be the bad guy, he might as well be the bad guy to the end. "Tre'nal said they are anxious to get under way."

"If they were smart they'd wait around a day or two," Trip said. "Make sure they don't experience any problems with her they can't handle."

Jon exchanged a quick look with T'Pol. "Actually," he said, "They told us she's settling in very well. Ah'len even held her up for us to see." He turned to T'Pol. "Disengage the docking clamp."

"Yeah?" Trip sounded wistful. "And she looked okay? She wasn't crying?"

"She looked fine." Which was true, but she had also stretched towards them, grunting and whining. Hoshi was convinced she was looking for her daddy, but Jon didn't think Trip needed to hear that right now.

"Ah'len also asked me to thank you for the shirt, whatever that means."

"Oh, good," Trip said softly. Jon turned to check on him, but Trip had turned around in the seat so that he was facing the rear of the pod.

T'Pol had also turned back towards the engineer, her face solemn. Then she noticed Jon watching her and quickly turned back to her panel.

Jon turned back to the helm. It was funny how these two fought like cats and dogs and yet somehow seemed to have forged a real connection along the way. Still, he hoped Trip had just had a very useful lesson in the danger of connecting too quickly with people from worlds you didn't really know or understand.

It was hard enough just managing relationships with fellow humans.

"Shuttle Pod One to Enterprise," he said. "Get ready to bring us in. It's time we got back on course."

The End

* * *

**Warning:** There will be an epilogue that jumps ahead ten years. If you hate The Episode Commonly Known as the Abomination _(TATV)_ so devoutly that you want to pretend it never happened, JUST DON'T READ IT. I certainly understand your feelings, and the plot is essentially complete at this point anyway. 


	5. Epilogue

**Warning:** Below you will find a short epilogue that jumps ahead ten years. If you hate The Episode Commonly Known as the Abomination(TATV) so devoutly that you want to pretend nothing in it ever happened, JUST DON'T READ IT. I certainly understand your feelings, and the plot is complete at this point anyway.

Thanks again for any reviews. (And I'll be interested to see if you think this epilogue was a good idea or not!)

* * *

Ten years later, T'Pol was packing up Trip's effects in his quarters when she came across an old PADD, a kind that hadn't been used since the early years of their mission. She checked its contents quickly, trying to determine whether it contained something that might have meaning for his family.

That's when she saw the file labeled "For Laney" and suddenly realized what it must be. She played it, and there was Trip, so young, with the Xyrillian infant in his arms. Talking to the screen, he gently told the story of how she'd come to be born on a human ship, and who her daddy was, and how if she was having trouble falling asleep, sometimes he'd sing her a song with words he'd had to make up a bit because he couldn't remember them all.

And then he'd gone ahead and sung to the baby in his arms, in a sweet and deep voice:

Hush little Baby, don't say a word  
Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird.  
And if that mockingbird don't sing,  
Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring.  
And if that diamond ring don't shine,  
Daddy's gonna bring warp drive online.  
And if the engines don't break warp five,  
Daddy's gonna skin his crew alive.  
And even if Enterprise falls apart,  
You're still gonna have your daddy's heart.

It was the first time T'Pol had thought about Laney in many years, and her thoughts ran automatically on to Lorian and to baby Elizabeth. And she reflected again, certainly not for the first time in recent days, on how brutal fate could be. It had seen fit to make Trip a father three times by the most extraordinary means, only to rip each child away from him.

And not just his children. His sister, his hometown. His conflicted Vulcan lover. Over the years the combination of losses he'd endured had certainly made Trip less flexible, more cautious. And yet only recently, he'd seemed to suggest that he hadn't shut the door on their relationship. T'Pol had been unaccountably cheered that the end of Enterprise's mission might not mean a final separation from her th'y'la after all.

But no separation could be more final than this one.

She wished that Laney really had been Trip's daughter. It was not logical, but it would comfort her to believe that some trace of him still lived.

T'Pol decided she would keep this PADD for herself. The Tuckers surely knew about Laney, if only because news of the first human male pregnancy had eventually hit the tabloids. But they already had enough to cope with right now. She could always make a copy of the data for them if they expressed interest later.

She held the PADD clutched tightly in her hands and realized she was rationalizing. The truth was that she wanted this little memento of Trip for herself – from a time when he'd just been an oddly compelling fellow officer, and it seemed as if the whole galaxy lay ahead of them.

THE END


End file.
